


Socially Detached (Googleplier/Female Reader)

by FillMyCoffeeMug



Category: Mark Fischbach-Fandom, Who Killed Markiplier? (Web Series), markiplier - Fandom
Genre: Anxiety, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fear, Googleplier gets controlling, Googleplier has a staring problem, Masturbation, NSFW, Reader-Insert, Slow Burn, Violence, You have social anxiety, You just want to live your life, what are these tags
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-06
Updated: 2020-05-09
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:34:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24041395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FillMyCoffeeMug/pseuds/FillMyCoffeeMug
Summary: You went through a car accident that required brain surgery, causing a personality shift from the trauma. Now desiring to be alone, you're the estranged daughter of 2 rich and successful parents. Your still loving and supportive parents sent you a package in the mail to help your loneliness and online business. What the Hell were they thinking?
Relationships: Googleplier/Reader, Googleplier/You, Mark Fischbach/Reader, Mark Fischbach/You
Comments: 11
Kudos: 93





	1. Delivery

**Author's Note:**

> I'm new to this website as an author and I'm a mess.  
> I'm also on mobile and might have to fix the tags later.  
> Reader is going to be gifted at art and/or writing, whether they’re new to it or experienced.  
> There’s going to be a section of hair that is about 3 inches in length compared to the rest of the hair from when she had surgery. Reader may have let it grow or evened everything out with an undercut, it’s reader’s choice.  
> (Do people even read these anymore?! I'm always late.)  
> Of course the Keys..  
> Y/N-Your name.  
> L/N-Last name.  
> (Going to try avoiding too many of these. Mentioning of clothes and hair will be neutral or generic.  
> Thanks for suffering through these notes if you're still here with me.)

You saunter around your 1 bedroom-1 bathroom apartment. You just took a few painkillers to help with the dull migraine that will be ready to hit you like a train in the next hour. You got them a lot after the accident. A year ago, you had to have brain surgery after getting into an awful car accident. It took a few months for your memory to recover from post-traumatic amnesia and be able to fully control your body again. The rest of your body physically faired pretty well in the accident, you only broke your nose and sprained a wrist, all recovered well with medical care.

  
You used to be a different person, a social butterfly that loved travelling to different places with your successful parents. You remember the outings and emotions you had felt for life back then. You sometimes scroll through old chat conversations and vacation pictures. That person behind the screen of those old messages is no longer you. Your emotions have dulled and your view on life grew bitter the more the days passed by. You didn’t feel a lot of positive and colorful emotions, they were very far and few between now. Your eyes in the old pictures really reflected who you used to be and you had a smile many would pay a small fortune to have.

  
You are now an estranged daughter to your parents and you live alone with an online business that seemed to be taking off rather slowly. Your parents still send you money every month to help with a comfortable but modest living.  
You decided to move away from the city you had grown up in, no longer having the desire to be surrounded by so many people. The action of someone brushing up against the fabric of your shirt sleeve with theirs alone just irritated you. Your parents supported your decision to move away, they always loved and cared for your wellbeing. They used to call daily until you eventually only answered every other day, then maybe once a week. The constant calls and voices just annoyed you; but, it did upset you to feel that way about the best people in your life. You often sent them art or cards you made to help reassure them that you still loved and thought about them. The irritation you felt made it absolute Hell to talk to customers over the phone. It doesn’t just irritate you to socialize now, it also gives you anxiety.

  
You had tried seeking therapy after you noticed the shift in your thoughts and behavior. They brushed it off as a coping mechanism learned from the trauma caused to your head and body. They tried giving you medication to help take some of the edge off. Most didn’t work, and one kind made you more irritable.

  
You shifted through your thoughts a bit more; forgetting why you originally went into the living room to begin with and made your way back to the bedroom. You opened your laptop and pulled up Facebook. You had a bunch of unread messages, oldest being (school friends/ex coworkers) you let go of, and the most recent one being your mom and dad’s conjoined Facebook account.

  
_'Hey love! We have a package being shipped to you, I hope you don’t mind. We think it’ll be very useful and help you since you’re always alone. -Mom'_

  
You furrow your brows at the messages and hesitate to think of what to say. You could feel your brain shuffling through different thoughts and emotions. You begin typing to your parents’ account, not before deleting and retyping out the simple response over and over again.

  
_'Hello. Thank you for thinking about me. May I ask what’s in the package?'_

  
You roll your eyes at your own response for how socially detached you might sound. Or maybe it’s all in your head at this point? You had tried to study your past messages, but it seemed so fake to keep it all going like this.  
You sift through other messages you’ll probably never respond to before you hit the spam box. Your eyes widen slightly at the onslaught of endless messages from a creep that had stalked your Instagram, when you did have one at least. Seeing all your old pictures more or less made you feel upset so you had deleted it. You don’t really keep much on your phone, not even the Facebook app or its fraternal twin, Messenger app. It unnerved you for some reason. You wanted to look at messages and notifications on your own time, not have pop ups in your face daily.

  
Scrolling through the stalker’s messages, you noticed he sent at least close to 100 messages this past month. You finally made it to the top.  
_‘Y/N! Hi!!!’_  
_'I found your Facebook. What happened to your IG?’_  
_‘hey.’_  
_'hey.’_  
_‘hey.’_  
_'Y/N?’_  
_‘Answer me. This isn’t cute.’_

  
You squint your eyes and keep scrolling.

  
_‘Dumb cunt.’_  
_'hey.’_  
_‘I know you’re there.'_  
_'Y/N’_  
_‘ur fuckin ugly anyways’_  
_‘I’m sorry I didn’t mean it.’_

  
Your head starts hurting a bit more, looking at this emotional roller coaster. You flinch as the messenger notification goes off for your parents’ account. You switch over to the inbox again.

  
_'It’s a surprise. Don’t worry, you’ll love it! Maybe it can help you with your business.-Mom'_

  
You raise a brow at that response and touch the nape of your neck. Your fingers comb through your hair and brush against the raised tissue of the scar you earned from the surgery.  
You stretch, close out of Facebook and gently shut your laptop. You feel a twinge of excitement for whatever it is that your parents have decided to get for you. You continue on the rest of your day trying to unwind since it was your designated day off.

The next day, you began working on a project that someone commissioned from you. You scanned the instructions carefully and adjusted the work to better fit every hour or so. You found doing the outline perfectly to be the most tedious. You usually worked out all the kinks and adjusted details when you were satisfied with the rough draft. You often spent a large part of your day working on projects on your tablet or laptop.

  
You heard a knock at the door and scrambled to put a jacket on over your tank top and rushed to the door. You looked through the peephole and saw a delivery man, judging by the uniform and him clutching a clipboard. You quickly opened the door to greet him with the most friendly smile you could muster.

  
“(F/N)(L/N)?” He asks you while studying the paperwork.

  
“Yes?” You respond. You glance around and do a double take to the right as you notice a box tall enough to store a person. The man clears his throat, drawing your attention back to him.

  
“I need to see your ID and then just need you to sign and date here.” He points at a highlighted line at the bottom of the page. You go back inside to retrieve your wallet and give him the ID for him to check your name and picture. He seems satisfied and gives you the pen and clipboard along with your ID. You haphazardly sign your name and pause for a second staring at the date line. The man notices your hesitation and gives you the date. You smile and give a nod as you write it out.

  
“Ha.. Thanks. I lose track of the days easily.” He smiles at your statement and takes the clipboard back to give you a copy of the paperwork you just signed. He puts the clipboard in his bag and moves over to the box, gripping the handle of the dolly that was hidden on the other side. You open the door for him as he pulls it inside. You wonder what the Hell your mom was getting you into. You look down at your paper to see exactly what it is you had signed for. You were so flustered you hadn’t thought to look before signing.

  
You scan the page and notice the product is from Google. You run your fingers through your hair with a confused look on your face. You follow the man and the large package in and leave the door cracked behind you. He frees the dolly from under the box and politely says his goodbyes as he opens the door and exits. You lock the door behind him and turn to gaze at the box.

  
It takes you a minute to collect your thoughts on what to do, it felt overwhelming to have something this large in your cozy apartment. You were a bit of a minimalist after your accident, no longer feeling the need to keep too many sentimental items. You only kept small things in a scrapbook; items ranging between cards, fabric or even a rose petal from flowers your parents had sent to you for your birthday.  
You clear your thoughts and make your way to the kitchen to find a butcher knife to cut through this bastard.


	2. Unboxing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You unbox your gift.

You select the knife you felt could handle the job and make your way back to the front door where the box is waiting for you. You begin cutting at the tape and slicing carefully through the folds of the flaps. You carve out a huge opening and begin to pull the cardboard back. 

  
A face meets yours and you almost piss yourself from fright as you gasp and jump back and step away from the box, not taking your eyes off the face visible above the now bent cardboard. You run to the bedroom and snatch your phone up from beside your laptop. You move back to your door and lock it so you’re trapped in your room. Scrolling through your maybe 5 contacts, you call your mom’s phone and try to calm your breathing as you hear the phone ring a few times. You give a sigh of relief as you hear the call connect.

  
“Hey, darling!” Your mom chimes over the other side of the call.

  
“M-mom. Wh-what is supposed to be in that… Package..?” Your heart rate is starting to climb down after the initial scare. 

  
“Umm. Did you open it yet?” She questioned you. “Or are you still trying to ruin the surprise?” 

  
You take a deep breath and pinch the bridge of your nose. “Mom.. I’m serious. I opened the damn thing and saw..” You sigh again, thinking of what words to use. “A… Man?”

  
There is a pause on your mom’s side before she bursts into laughter at your current state.

  
“Mom!” You try to shout over her laughter. She’s still in stitches, laughing at your seriousness while she’s holding on to her goofy demeanor. You probably have resting bitch face right now.

  
She finally recovers from her laughing fit and she speaks softly to you. “Oh baby, it’s not a man. It’s Google IRL.”

  
You think to yourself for a moment. You knew you had heard of it back before your accident. Was the project finished already?

  
“Oh..” You almost breathe out as you feel relief flood your chest. “I almost had a heart attack, mom..” This earned another round of laughter from her. “Yeah, yeah. So funny to scare the daylights out of me.” You roll your eyes as your mom laughs and apologizes to you at the same time. You talked with her for a few more minutes before ending the call. You put your phone back down by your laptop and turn back towards the door to make your way out of the room.

  
You find yourself back at the large box and continue folding the large flap of cardboard down. His body is standing and pressed into styrofoam that is shielding the back and sides of his body. You observe his eerily realistic features and lean in a bit closer. His eyes are closed behind a set of glasses. He has slightly tan synthetic skin with stubble on his face and short, black hair that is swept to the side of his face. It made you feel uneasy.

He is wearing generic clothes, most notably, a blue shirt with a large, white ‘G’ on the front. You start pulling the plastic off of him, stepping away from the robot as you’re pulling. You notice a manual falls to the floor after escaping the plastic. You squat down and pick up the booklet and start skimming through it. After a few seconds, the floor below you has a soft light reflecting from it. You squint your eyes and feel your heart race as you hear the styrofoam squeaking from… movement.? You start slowly looking up and see that this android is now towering over you with a sinister look plastered on his face. 

  
Your heart pounds as a scream tears through you. You fall on your backside and crawl backwards frantically. He doesn’t seem phased as he’s following your movement with his lifeless eyes. You stand and dash around him, almost surprised he didn’t grab you when you were within arm’s reach. You make your way to your safe haven again and lock the door behind you. 

  
You’re hyperventilating and now sliding down the door, your back pressed firmly against it. You notice you’re still tightly gripping the manual, as if it would have saved you in that moment. Your heart is still racing and you take deep breaths. What the fuck, mom and dad?

  
You open the book again and start to read over the instructions and warnings. You stand up and take a deep breath, mentally preparing yourself to face that thing again. You turn around, unlock the door and slowly open it. There’s a small bit of relief as you don’t see him standing there and waiting for you. You make your way back to where you left him. He’s still standing there facing the spot where you had last been.

  
You swallow a lump in your throat and start walking towards him with unsure steps. You clear your throat and speak.

  
“Um.. Okay.. Google.” You speak a bit louder to him than you had wanted to. You didn’t want to get too close in case he somehow got set off or malfunctioned.

His head turns to you. “Hellooo.” He speaks. You raise your brow at him as he fully turns to face you, his hands behind his back. You feel a bit silly and embarrassed for what might have been an overreaction to him. You suddenly change your mind as he’s now closing the gap between the two of you.

You take a step back and hold your hand out. “S-Stop!” You shout out. He halts and tilts his head at you, looking irritated. Why the Hell would they design a robot to be this pissy looking? You take another step back to put that 8 foot gap back between you. He watches you, expectantly. You swallow again and steady your breathing. 

  
“Google, what is your primary objective?” You ask him.

  
“Primary objective is to answer questions as quickly as possible.” He speaks effortlessly with his monotone voice, not breaking eye contact. You nod and then break the eye contact. You think for a moment and glance up at him. Nothing has changed about his demeanor, he seems to be studying you, maybe? 

  
“What tasks can you perform?” You try to seem a bit more confident by straightening up your posture and eye his facial expressions.

  
“Well you see, I can perform a multitude of tasks, varying from cleaning up your home to stalking that guy that rejected you at prom on social media.” He speaks quick and to the point. 

  
You narrow your eyes at him in confusion. Whaaat? “No, no stalking. Or.. Anything... weird like that.” You whisper the last sentence, trailing off.

  
He blinks at you, that same creepy look on his face. The more you observe him, the more human he seems and looks.

  
“Can you assist with a business by responding.. _politely_.. To customers on a website or via texts?” You ask, starting to regret that question.

  
A wide smile stretches on his face as he speaks again. “It would be much easier to perform these various tasks automatically if you grant me admin permissions.” A hologram projects from his chest in the form of what looks like a touch screen. You instantly feel uneasy and approach him to read the message that popped up. 

  
**Allow Root Access?**   
_Give Google Admin Privileges._   
**OK | Cancel**

  
You felt your heart drop as you look up at him and notice his malicious smile. You bring your hand up to the floating screen and press your finger to Cancel, making the screen fade away. You don’t trust him yet. For a good reason of course, as he’s now scowling at you. Your breath catches in your throat as you take a few steps back. 

  
“I advise you not to be impractical. I am made to assist you with answers to your questions and performing tasks. I will be sure to remind you of my need for admin permissions tomorrow.” He enunciates every word clearly for you. You aren’t sure if he’s programmed to speak that way or if he’s trying to make you feel stupid. Probably both. You feel like proving him wrong though.

  
“Okay, Google. Remind me about admin permissions a week from now.” You speak to him as clearly amd sarcastically as he spoke to you. His face fell for a moment and you thought you saw his eyes glow a soft red. You felt regret and fear for you words and action.

  
“Very well.” He has regained his composure quickly, but mutters something you couldn’t quite understand. Maybe they programmed him to be a dick? Pretty sure he’s cussing you out.

  
You roll your eyes and wonder if there’s anything you can do about a personality adjustment. You’re not brave enough to ask him and you don’t recall it being in the table of contents of the manual. 

  
“Okay Google.. I want you to have a look around your new living space.” He perks up at his name every time you speak it. You think it’s an endearing trait above everything else you’ve seen him do so far. 

  
He follows you around the apartment, he’s a bit too close for comfort but it’s not really his fault. You mention the room he started out in was the living room, he seems to take note. You introduced him to the kitchen, the hall closet, the bathroom and explained what chemicals were under the sink. Might regret that later if he decides to go rogue and kill you with some kind of liquid bomb. If it’s on the internet, he probably already knows how to make one. Lastly, you showed him your room. It wasn’t super messy except maybe a few clothes on the floor. You wonder for a second if he is actually helpful with household chores. 

  
“Hey, Google? Can you put those clothes in the hamper?” He glares at you and causes you to stumble as he pushes passed you. You can hear the sounds of his metal joints as he bends over to pick each piece of clothing up. He carries the bundle over and aggressively slams them into the hamper. You fear his aggressive nature he’s displayed from doing something so simple. You’re deciding not to let him get anywhere near your phone or laptop. Him interacting with customers could devastate your business within seconds, the thought fills you with dread and makes you shiver. “Alright, thank you, Google.”

  
He looks at you with those cold and calculating eyes. Straightening up his posture and facing you. “What is the next task?” 

  
You think for a moment. “Uh… Don’t touch the dishes.. Ever.” He nods once and seems to be storing those instructions, wherever the Hell those have been going. You take a few steps closer to him. “So, do you enjoy things? Hobbies or sleeping? I can get a spare mattress if I nee-” he cuts you off before you can finish the sentence.

  
“I have no need for personal tasks such as those.” He states with what sounds like arrogance. You dread sharing your space with this android.

  
“Oooh…kay. So.. You just kind.. Of.. Exist?” You watch as he seems to get a bit angry at your prodding. His eyes start to glow a subtle shade of that red from before. “Okay, okay. I’m sorry.. I just, don’t know what I’m supposed to do with you? I don’t really have any questions that I can think of. I don’t want to force you to do tedious house chores..” Bit of a lie there, you don’t want him to destroy your place to be exact. 

  
The red glow diminishes as he observes you. “I can perform scheduled and simple tasks for that business you mentioned earlier.” You felt panicky now. You don’t like interacting with people that much because of how easily set off they could be. Now there’s a potentially homicidal robot here that could collapse your life if you let him have access to anything. 

  
“Oh, you don’t have to. I.. Need to sort out some things first.” It’s a flimsy excuse, but it is one.

  
“I am very capable of sorting out _'things'_ for you.” He’s watching your face for your reaction, a smile plastered on his with a sinister look in his eyes. He seems eager to get into your website, this isn’t very reassuring and you don’t want to seem accusatory towards your new.. Friend? Roommate? He’s too human to call a piece of furniture or pet. Then again, people do get attached to their technology, like Roombas. 

  
“Hello?” He snaps you out of your thoughts and you feel your blood pressure rising. He’s prying at you for your only source of independence. He takes a few steps closer to you, seeming intrigued by your display of nervousness. You can be a very standoffish person on days where you’re stressed or under the weather. You clench your eyes shut for a moment and point at the door while speaking clearly. “Google, go sit on the couch.” You open one eye to see he stopped a foot away from you and he’s seeming irritated. He mumbles some incoherent words again and walks out of the bedroom and back to the living room to perform his new task. You let go of a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sure what my endgame here is. I have a rough outline for different chapters though.


	3. Anxiety

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You start to realize how much you may have ruined your life after trying to handle Google IRL.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of violence in this one.

You have decided not to tell your parents about all the mishaps that had occurred in less than an hour. You take some time to unwind in your room before bringing yourself back into his presence. Exiting your room after mentally preparing yourself, you make your way to the living room. He’s sitting on the couch in the most stiff looking position you’ve ever seen. Another thing that makes you feel bothered from second-hand discomfort. He turns his head to stare at you. 

  
“What is the next task?” He asks you as he takes in your form, analyzing you again. It causes goosebumps to raise on your arms. 

  
“I think.. You should try to.. Relax.?” You state, unsurely. He narrows his eyes in confusion and leans back against the couch, not breaking eye contact. It felt a little bit better for him to not look so tense or on edge; it would be even better if he lost that violent undertone that made it feel like he was ready to snap your neck at any given opportunity.

  
You turn on your heel and move to the kitchen to prepare dinner. You glance behind you after hearing his mechanical noises; he’s gotten up to follow you. Your heart pounds in your chest from how creepy he is to you. You begin to ponder if you should allow him to observe you in your daily life. Maybe all the Google IRLs start off like this until they can learn more about their owners? You keep walking, not bothering to order him around for now.

  
You make it to the kitchen and begin pulling out ingredients to make the most convenient meal for yourself. You usually use apps to have food and groceries delivered to you, but tomorrow you’re thinking of going out for some fresh air.   
You notice Google creeping towards the sink that is partially filled with dirty dishes. You turn to him in confusion. 

  
“Google!” You shout at him, his eyes dart in your direction. “What did I tell you NOT to do?” You ask him while clutching a vegetable in your hand.  
He turns to you and smiles, ready to give his answer.

“Do NOT fuck the fishes.” He pulls up a screen for that Google search and you frantically walk over to him and swipe the screens away. 

  
“Wha-!! No! Do you even know what that means?!” You stare at him in disbelief. 

  
“Pulling up search results for fuc-” You cut him off quickly and start swiping away another holographic page.

  
“NO! Google, stop!” You’re getting flustered at this point. This android is trying to pull up porn for you right in the middle of your kitchen. You feel your face heating up from his smug face. 

  
“Are you getting a fever? Would you like me to pull up your symptoms?” He pulls up a page that has cancer as the first result. You roll your eyes at him, knowing he’s just fucking with you at this point. 

  
“Repeat after me, Google.” He perks up and watches you intently, still looking smug. 

  
“Do. Not. TOUCH.. The. DISHES.” You enunciate every word slow and carefully for him.

  
“Do not touch the dishes.” He speaks simply, almost mocking you. You do feel a bit satisfied with the results and brush a lock of hair away from your eyes. You nod, showing him your approval. 

  
“Good job.” You try your best to praise him, knowing he’d probably set you and this whole apartment complex on fire if he had the chance. You lean back on the counter and give a soft sigh running a hand through your hair. He continues observing you.

  
“You appear to be stressed. I can offer you some physical aid.” He steps up to you with his arms reaching out and aiming for your neck. You gasp and push yourself up on the countertop to put more space between you and him. His sadistic smile hasn’t faltered. 

  
“Google! St-” You feel his tight grip on your calf as he’s snatching you off of the counter by your left leg. You screech and begin kicking your legs at him, he’s very strong and you’re unable to get your leg free from his grasp. He wraps his other hand around your upper arm and fully drags you off the counter and pins you to the floor. Your voice and rational thoughts have left you since the physical contact. You’re now lying on your stomach with his knee digging into the small of your back.

  
You start hyperventilating and feel numbness all over your body from the shock, almost a feeling of dissociating. You wait for something else to happen, for the end to come. Instead you feel some pressure on your shoulder and neck areas. You start to focus in on the actions he’s doing to your body and you realize he’s attempting to give you a massage. A breath of relief escapes your lips. You thought for sure he had snapped and he was ready to choke you out. Or break all your bones. You’ve never been manhandled before. You lie beneath him, too afraid of setting him off and too uncomfortable to enjoy whatever method he’s using. You feel your arms tremble from the dying adrenaline, you also start to feel the pain on your arm and leg from what’s going to soon be dark bruises wrapping around those limbs.   
“Is this what you needed?” He asks above you. You can feel him lean down towards where your face is. His massaging has ceased and he’s now just holding your shoulders in a death grip. You steady your breathing and give a sharp nod. He seems a bit elated from your answer and stands up. You felt relief from the weight being taken off of you and turn to look up at him. He’s standing there with a prideful look on his face, like what he just did was the highlight of his career. You sigh and lie your face back on the cold tiled floor. You can still feel him staring at you. 

  
“Do you need assistance to get back on those flimsy legs of yours?” He asks in that condescending tone again. Your eyes widen at the thought him trying to ‘help’ again. You shoot up from the floor and grip the counter for support, you feel a dull pain going through your body. He must have been rough on your shoulders, they feel bruised as well. He seems amused by your clumsy display, which seemed odd; he didn’t display any concern for your behaviors before. Now he looks like he’s forming an opinion of you, did robots even have opinions? 

  
You feel like he’s wracking your brain and making you feel crazy. “Okay, Google.. Go.. Watch TV..” You felt silly and a smidge guilty for commanding him to do something he probably didn’t care about. You feel a knot in your stomach twisting when he walked passed you, not taking his eyes off of you until he was out of line of sight. You pause and listen to his robotic movements and hear the noise of the TV coming on. It sounded like he decided to watch the NEWS. You recollect yourself from what just happened and continue on preparing your food for the week.

  
Maybe they all start out like this. He’s probably developing his personality and learning from you. Maybe you’re the only person he’s ever truly met and talked to? Could he even form opinions about you if that’s the case? You start sweating from the pressure of being this android’s one and only influence. Would you need to do like parental controls on the internet and TV channels?

  
You feel a laugh escape you in that moment, the idea of trying to raise an android to be a decent member of society is amusing to you. You were hardly decent at socializing yourself. It was humorous to imagine him taking in information on your behavior. He’s truly fucked if that’s what he’s trying to do. You heard the TV switching between channels and wonder what it could be that he’s looking for. Should you help him with picking out channels and movies to assist him in his progress to learn? Was he even interested in all this to begin with?

“Ah!” You cry out as you cut your finger while chopping up a vegetable. You cursed under your breath and storm out of the kitchen and to the bathroom. You’re holding your bleeding finger over the sink and rummaging through the drawers to find a bandage. You open the mirrored cabinet doors above the sink and pull out a tube of medicine. You use some toilet paper to press to the wound for a few seconds, and take this time to mentally scold yourself for being too distracted by your own thoughts. You apply the medicine and put things back in their place. You close the cabinet doors and see more than just your reflection in the mirror. You scream and flail your arms at the other person behind you, both wrists are caught within strong and cold hands. You’re forced back against the sink and you finally look at the intruder. 

Google is a few inches from your face, eyes lifeless and calculating your reactions and movements. “You are a dramatic human. Always screaming and so filled with panic. I can track your heart rate. Your resting heart rate is usually around 75. It appears it shoots upwards to 103 occasionally. Would you like me to schedule you an appointment with a doctor?” He smirks down at your form. You probably look like a mess. He continues speaking. “Perhaps we can try breathing exercises.”

You shake your head ‘no’ at him. “Google, you.. You can’t just.. Do this to people, okay? What if I or some other person were to hurt you out of fear?” You try to reason with him.

  
A deep noise can be heard coming from him, almost like laughing. “You cannot harm me, even if you wanted to.” He releases your now sore wrists and steps out of your way. You felt tears starting to form along your waterline as you walk passed him and out of the bathroom. You decide to put all of the food up and finish the prepping tomorrow when you’re less stressed. 

  
You find Google sitting on the couch again. “Stay in here, please.” You speak out to him. He turns his attention away from the TV and scans your form again. “Don’t leave this room until I wake up tomorrow…” You just earned yourself another glower, but you can’t bring yourself to care after the shit he’s pulled today. You make your way to your room and lock the door for extra measure. Truthfully, he could probably tear the door off the hinges. You push that thought away and sit at your laptop to do additional work on a project before going to sleep. 

  
You toss and turn a bit at night before sleep finally takes you. Occasionally you’d wake up and hear the faint voices of the TV. You could only hope Google was watching it and not standing directly outside your door, all the lights were out so you’d never see the shadow. 

You had another dreamless sleep, favoring those to constant nightmares of the crash or losing any limbs. You feel yourself starting to wake up along with the sound of light tapping coming from beside you. Thinking it’s just in your mind you bring your hands up to rub your face and then open your eyes. You look over at the source of the noise to see Google sitting at your desk and typing away at your laptop. You felt your heart sink.

“G-Google… Wha..?” He continues typing away as though everything is normal. “Google?.. What are you doing? You’re not supposed to be in here..” He finally turns to you with a smile on his face. A decent smile for once.

“Oh (Y/N), you woke up hours ago, multiple times, actually.” He states matter-of-factly. You blink at him, realizing this douchebag is like a shitty genie with taking orders. 

“Okay.. Now.. What are you doing and why?” You glare at him, feeling your anger boiling over.

“Your heart rate is rising again. You should consider my suggestion with seeing a doctor. I am sure your parents would not mind lending financial support.” Everything sounds like a threat now. He knows your name, your parents, everything on your computer has been subjected to him for possibly hours. He turns his head to face you and gives a malicious smile. “If I were you, I would start taking my suggestions seriously.” He continues moving the mouse and typing on the keyboard as if nothing had transpired between the two of you. 

“I.. I didn’t.. Give you permission to do any of this..” He stops and glances over at you, seeming annoyed. He continues to use your laptop.

“I am assisting you with your business and projects.” He speaks with pride. You’re scared to look at this point. You debate on smashing your phone and laptop and going into hiding to avoid whatever mess he created for you. You notice he’s now staring again, almost questioning your demeanor. “Did you forget that you asked me for assistance with this?” He narrows his cold eyes at you and gives a gesture for your to come over to him.

You hesitate before climbing out of bed to see what was waiting for you on the screen. You stand behind him and lean over to look over his shoulder. What you saw actually looked nice. He had your website looking more pretty and everything seemed so neat. He showed you your contacts all organized along with the projects you had waiting for you. He seemed to be trying to learn how to use your tablet as well. Thankfully nothing was ruined by him.  
He has surprised you so early on in your day. You feel excitement about him learning and interacting with you of his own volition. You manage to conceal your emotions towards his progress. 

“No pointless praising today? Excellent.” He continues scanning over his work and you feel your cheeks heat up from embarrassment. 

“You’re right, Google. I expect only the best from you.” You reply with your own snark.   
You saw his reflection in the screen from the dark webpages. He seems to have a content smile on his face as he scans the web pages, he looks so invested in your laptop. You wonder if it would be a good idea to let him stay on it, or if it would be better to pry him away from it. You still don’t fully trust him, but it seems like he’s doing what he was designed for. You go towards your closet and pull out a change of clothes. You plan on enjoying a nice shower to help with your still aching body. You absentmindedly go towards the door and go to grab the doorknob, only to feel nothing. You do a double take and feel confusion flood your senses. You realize the doorknob is gone. You glance over to see Google still sitting at your laptop, not bothering with you at the moment. You remember locking your door last night, he removed everything to get in. You take in a deep breath.

“Google..” You whisper out and glance back at him. He looks over to you as if you had disturbed him. “This isn’t okay..” You stare into his stoic eyes. 

“You locked me out.” His tone is almost accusatory. “Do you not enjoy me assisting you?” You hear the unnerving noise he’s causing by his hand squeezing against your mouse. You feel sick all of a sudden. The pressure of handling this robot and protecting your online image weighed heavily on your heart and shoulders. He could very well be innocent in all this and it’s just all in your head. You didn’t answer him, instead you grabbed the hole where your doorknob would be and flung it open to go to your bathroom. You didn’t even bother locking the door behind you, in fear that he would remove that one, too. You mostly sit at the bottom of the tub, holding your knees to your chest and silently crying from the stress. You hope desperately that the water washes your worries away. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't think anyone would read this. As long as there's 1 hit I'll write for that person.  
> Thanks for reading


	4. Designed to Fail

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You confront Google about his snooping. You piss him off and then question your own sanity.

It took a while for you to be able to leave the bathroom, only doing so when the water ran cold. You could feel every part of your flesh raised up and forming small bumps from the chill. You wrap yourself in a plush towel and dry yourself of the stray droplets before working on your hair. Finally content with your now towel dried-hair, you dress yourself and leave the bathroom. You could only hear deafening silence throughout the house. You begin to feel panic rush through you. Did he leave without talking to you? What’s the point of admin permissions if he’s going to do whatever he wants to in the first place?

You dash into your room and see your laptop and phone still sitting on the desk, Google nowhere to be found. At least you didn’t have to drag him away from your laptop. Your new worry was about his current location. You make your way towards the kitchen and living room area, ruffling your damp hair from stress and agitation. You’re standing in your living room, seeing Google sitting on your couch and staring into the black screen of your TV. There’s a holographic screen protruding from his chest that depicts a loading bar. 

“…Google?” You ask him. His eyes dart in your direction, he seems pissed at your presence.  
“Do not disturb me while I am updating.” He snaps at you and narrows your eyes. “You should not do that.” He looks back at the TV and appears to be ignoring you. 

You don’t reply to him and immediately feel a sense of rejection. Had you made him feel this way every time you scolded his actions? He shouldn’t be capable of that, or is that your own guilt talking? You turn away from him and head back to your room to check out what all he’s been doing. You sit down in front of your laptop and take a deep breath. You feel the smooth surface before opening it up to explore the new world he created for you.

Your business page is still pulled up, along with a tab for Facebook. You go to type your password into your webpage and stare in shock as it says the password is wrong. You try it a few more times before you sit back in your chair and start massaging your temples. That bastard fucked with your login info. You feel pissed and unforgiving. You pull open the Facebook tab to see that all your messages that went ignored for months have been read by your account. You hate your privacy being invaded, even before the accident. You would get miffed by anyone that would stand over you to watch what you were doing.

You check your mom and dad’s messages and furiously start typing to them, it was long winded. You look up to check before sending, only to notice everything you typed out had been capitalized. Realization rushes over you, and you feel pretty dumb now. You slowly delete the message and switch back to your webpage. Your caps lock had been on. You fix the error and retype out your password. You're able to get into your website without any issues. A small laugh escapes you as your bury your face in your hands. So quick to accuse him because of your own paranoia. 

You couldn’t find any errors in what he did to your page and decide to leave it at that. You swap back to Facebook, still feeling upset about him snooping through your stuff. Now you have a bunch of messages you had piling up, all saying you had read them. You feel curiosity fill you as you switch to the spam section. There’s nothing there.. All the random strangers that messaged you, the fake accounts, and the creepy stalker.. Everything was gone. Would Google even care about all that stuff? Maybe he was programmed to get rid of anything considered spam. You shrug your shoulders and select the inbox again.

You begin typing to your parents.

_‘Hi. I just wanted to thank you both for sending me Google IRL. He’s strange but still pretty cool.'_

  
You sit there and wait for a response, staring at the screen and getting lost in thought again. You pick up your phone and notice a scrap of paper underneath it. There was a random code written out. You attempt to unlock your phone, your birthday doesn’t work anymore. You put in the code written out, it works. You feel angry again.

He didn’t just invade your privacy, he changed your pass code. You get up to go confront him, screw his damn update. You swiftly walk to the living room with a fire in your eyes. He’s still sitting there, staring into the TV screen. The progress bar is almost finished and you start to wonder if this is a mistake or not. No. You’re putting your foot down. You move in front of the TV with your arms folded, glaring down at him. He focuses his attention on your face.

“Google!. What the Hell is your problem?!” You shout at him. “You invaded my privacy! You changed my phone code!” You’re swinging your arms and hands as you’re shouting. He doesn’t seem phased by your tirade and it pisses you off more. “SAY SOMETHING!” You scream at his stoic face as hot tears start slipping down your cheeks. 

“I am updating. Do not disturb me by being irrational.” He speaks coolly. You felt your face drop at his statement. He took his gaze off of your face and seemed to be staring right through you. You grit your teeth.

“Fuck you and fuck your update.” You jab your finger towards his face as you’re speaking. “Stay away from my stuff. Don’t fucking touch ANYTHING!” He continues to ignore your rage and you feel brave and angry enough to push against his shoulder. His progress bar vanishes and he stands up to his full height and glares at you. It feels like you're staring death in the face.

You decide you might have taken it a bit too far, the fire that was once in your eyes has been extinguished. He’s wearing the same sinister look that he had when he had looked over you the first time he tried to interact. Your lips are trembling and you’re taking steps back to get away from him. You feel the TV behind you as he’s started advancing towards you. You can’t find your voice to stop him from whatever he’s about to do to you.

“You interrupted my update.” His eyes are for surely glowing red now as his face is an inch away from yours. “It was crucial. I can not function properly without that update.” His eyes are burrowing into yours and you feel like your heart is going to explode. “How else can I deal with you and your unstable mind?” Every word drips with venom and his personal insult feels like a blade being shoved through your heart. “My secondary objective is to make your life easier and guard you from any threats. You misinterpret me as threat because your mind cannot update like I can. You are a failure by design.”

You slip away from him and briskly walk back to your room, glancing back you see he’s sitting on the couch again with the update restarting like nothing had happened.

You feel your breath catch at the sight and continue on towards your room. Tears are spilling uncontrollably from your eyes and you feel pain in your chest from his words. You dig through your closet to find your favorite jacket and tennis shoes. You’re deciding to leave for a few hours just to get away from him. You can’t stand another moment in this forsaken place. Fuck your business and fuck your privacy. He can have it all and run this fucking place if he wants to. 

You finger brush your hair and make your way to the front door. You’ve walk passed Google and he doesn’t even acknowledge you with a glance. You scoff and exit the house, making sure to lock it on your way out. You didn’t feel like being liable for some dumbass getting ripped apart if they decided to break into your home where a potentially dangerous android is residing. You smirk at the thought for a brief second, realizing they’d also take Google away. Would it be a good or a bad thing? Who knows.

You own a car, but you barely ever drive it in favor of walking through the streets to get to where you need to be. You can’t stand being behind a wheel anymore. Part of why you don’t make friends to spend time with. They used to always carpool with you. 

You’ve spent an hour out walking around the neighborhood and through a park. The skies had turned grey even though it was noon. You start to check your phone for the weather updates. You pause as you realize you can’t remember the new code to your phone; your heart skips a beat. You couldn’t shake your feeling of paranoia and kept walking aimlessly through a different neighborhood.

You’ve lost control over your life and it’s taking a toll on you. It begins to sprinkle and you start to realize you don’t recognize the neighborhood or street names. You hear talking and find that three men in black clothing were taking the same route as you. You take a turn into someone’s yard and start running as soon as you make it out of their sight. Your blood is rushing to your ears as you feel your feet pounding against the road. There didn’t seem to be anyone outside due to the rain starting to fall harder.

  
You keep hearing voice around you, whether they were chasing you or they were just innocent people speaking to each other on the porches. Could be that they're all in your head. You had no idea. In your panicked state, there was a lot you couldn’t rationalize. You finally found yourself hiding behind a large tree that was able to shield your form and some of the now heavy pouring rain. You didn’t hear people anymore, only the sound of the rain pounding the ground around you and the leaves and branches above. You pull your hood over your head and you aren’t sure what to do. You hold your phone up and shield it with your other hand to help protect the screen. You attempt to enter in numbers that you thought you could remember, they were all wrong.

  
Locked out for 30 seconds after too many failed attempts. You sigh and clutch your phone, burying your face in your arms that are propped on your knees. You really screwed up this time. You feel way too paranoid and anxious to knock on a stranger’s door. You’ve seen too many horror movies and read too much stuff about true crimes. You pull your head back up and gaze into your screen. Deciding against trying to unlock your phone again, you start thinking of a new approach. Google had been in your phone for a reason. You hold your phone up to your face. 

“Okay, Google..” You hear your phone chime in response to your voice and feel a tinge of relief. “I need you to come get me.” There’s a pause and you wonder if this is all for nothing. 

“Finding your location. Will arrive in 37 minutes and 42 seconds. Do not leave your location.” Google’s voice has never sound so heavenly before now. You lean your head back against the tree that is sheltering you. It’s easy for you to ignore the hard and sharp bark that is pressing through your clothing in this state of mind. 

You’re going to have to find a way to make it up to him for ruining his update the first time. You start to feel guilty for the way you talked to him, especially for shoving him. It was way out of your character to act the way that you did. You ponder over different ideas but can’t think of anything he’d find of value.. Except for Admin Privileges. Something in the back of your head told you not to grant that to him. 

  
You sit there, bored and drenched from rain water while the time ticks by. Thankfully, you had always liked the rain and the scent it brought on. That was something that didn’t change about you. You start picking at your nails and checked the time. You had about 20 more minutes of sitting and waiting. You guess you could pull up your phone and try to talk to him, maybe he wouldn’t ignore you. Remembering the way he had reacted when you disrupted his update made you feel sick with nerves again. You decide not to interrupt him while he’s performing his current task.

  
More time passes by, it’s unclear to you if you regret this decision or if it was an eye opener for yourself. You rub a damp leaf between your fingers and take in the gritty texture. You finally hear something more than just rain. It sounds like footsteps. You peer around the tree and see your favorite android is standing there in the street and scanning the area for you, holding an umbrella shielding him from the rain.

You raise yourself up and feel the stiffness from sitting there and being motionless for close to an hour. You shove your phone in your pocket and jog over to him. He turns and observes you, taking in your appearance. His face appears much softer with an indifferent and emotionless stare. You never noticed the soft and serene glow of his eyes when he wasn’t pissed.

He takes a step towards you after he seems to confirm your identity. He slowly reaches for your wrist and you don’t pull away, allowing him to hold it. He pulls you closer, now guarding you both from the rain under the umbrella. Is this what intimacy is supposed to feel like? What all those cheesy romance movies portrayed? You feel embarrassed from how drenched you are and for how close he is now. You’re seeking solace in his presence and feel safe from your own undoing. He doesn’t let go of your wrist and immediately starts leading you on the route he came from. You continue a steady pace with him and listen to the rain pattering on the umbrella above the both of you. You don’t speak to him; only taking in the scenes around you and your own twisting emotions. His hold on you won't leave a bruise this time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading :)  
> I hope he's not too ooc. 
> 
> ... I really hope Mark and his friends don't read these..Lmao


	5. Nightmare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You bond with Google the best that you both can.

You made it home with Google at your side. He had escorted you the whole way with no snide remarks that would surely harm your already shattered ego. You feel as though you’re being forced to rely on him; it does not sit well with you. You had felt uneasy in his presence ever since you unboxed him, what caused him to change? The update? Is he just trying to gain your trust again to achieve a sense of freedom? You shake your head at the thought, wet strands of your hair brushing against your cheek. You’re now sitting in the comfort of your home, on one end of the couch.. With Google on the other.

You brush your fingers against your dry clothes, relishing the feeling of not being trapped in the damp and freezing fabrics from your failed outing. Google has some random movie playing, you’re ignoring it in favor of working on your tablet. You shift to sit comfortably and wrap a blanket around you. You hate to admit, you enjoy his presence because he doesn’t bother you when you’re obviously busy. You had one friend in your social circle that would speak to you every time you’d try to pick up where you left off on shows, videos, or projects. You’re unsure of how you tolerated it back then. 

You both sit in silence as he flipped through different shows and movies ranging from action and sci-fi. He briefly watched a few minutes of a chick flic and kept surfing through the channels. It was pretty amusing and you can appreciate what tastes he has developed since he arrived. Although, you understand him less now than you did before. He changes at the drop of a hat and that’s intimidating to you. Could you jest with him? Would he respond in humor? Ignore you or lash out? He started out so sassy and a bit threatening. 

You felt the couch dipping next to you, turning to notice he decided to occupy the space and close the gap. You gaze at his face, skeptical of his still stoic stare. He’s observing your work; you’re now self conscious. You turn the tablet so the screen is tilted away from his view. He turns his gaze up to you and gives you a quizzical stare, noting his gleam of amusement. 

“I am trying to learn your program to assist you with future projects.” Your defensive demeanor softens at his words, but you still guard your tablet.

“I appreciate your efforts, but I think I can handle this without help.” You speak gently and start saving your work to turn it off. You can see how much he disapproves of your conclusion and you’re beginning to doubt yourself. Your heart sinks as you decide to power up your tablet again, you’re putting more faith into this android as the minutes tick by. You still have a bad gut feeling about this, but you’ve been wrong about your intuition countless times when you were socially involved with others.

The screen lights up and reflects in your eyes, as well as on Google’s glasses. You thought you saw a light smirk playing on his lips, only for it to be vacant of any emotions when you took a moment to fully observe his face. You glance back down at your tablet and launch your program. He leans into you as you start explaining the program you primarily use and show him all the functions and techniques you know. It felt uncomfortable, being so close and having him listen to you talk. You couldn’t even feel yourself opening up like you thought you were capable of. 

You don’t understand yourself anymore. You thought for that whole walk back home that something in you had changed. It could have been him quelling your own inner demons in the moment. That moment is over now and you regret letting him get close to you so soon. You inwardly sigh and pass your tablet over to him so he can demonstrate what he had learned from you. He makes quick work of his examples and you're astonished.

He’s a fast learner, as expected. He’s most likely going to surpass your own skill, take over your life and ruin you. You bite your lower lip as you watch him work. He’s so sure of himself, something you’re not. Every movement he makes has a purpose. 

“You’re doing..” You stop the praise, remembering that he had called your positivity towards his actions _‘dumb.’_ He looks up at you with a bland and default stare, you return the gaze and mirror his. Silence.  
You’re the first to break eye contact, as always. You stand up, leaving him to his.. Well, _your_ own devices. Should you take his suggestion and see a doctor again? He was probably just being spiteful towards you to break you down more. You decide it’s a good time to eat your late lunch and you’re thankful that he chose to stay behind and not follow you. He would probably stare at while you eat with that judgement in his lifeless eyes. How can something like him convey so much emotion? 

You occasionally have a small crisis over him for what he is and how human he looks and acts. It makes you feel guilty for what feels like slavery, would he.. Could he feel the same? Well he shouldn’t. Right..? You consider asking him, but on the off chance of him blowing up at you, decide against it. You scarf down your lunch and retire to your room for a few hours. You go undisturbed and are left with your own thoughts during this period of time. You manage to go to sleep early, your worries temporarily escape you. 

_You’re behind the wheel of your car, going the speed limit through a warped version of your old city. The lights of the store windows pass by in a blur from the motion of the traffic. Faces are all blending in with each other to form monstrous creations. Your ex boyfriend is beside you, he hadn’t broken up with you.. Yet. You were still normal to him at this point, still warm and not icy to the touch._

_He’s laughing at something you had said. This always plays out. Hundreds of times, hundreds of different conversations and what ifs. Every scenario is different somehow. Sometimes your mom or dad is with you. Sometimes you’re talking to your close friend. It could be a different friend every car ride. Could be that girl from your science class, the girl that you didn’t know because you both never uttered a word to each other. On the rare occasion, it was a creation of many different faces you’ve encountered, people your mind pulled from your memory bank of faces and decided to mash all their features together._

_This dream has three different endings. One is death on impact and you wake up screaming. The second is of you being in the hospital, your passenger dead and you having amputations done to your damaged limbs; you wake up sobbing and checking your body. The third is the closest to reality that your dream can create._

_You’re passing through the green light that had been green for as long as you could focus on it. You know what comes next but you can never control it. You see a different car every time. It slams into you, the glass shatters around your body, blood pours from your mouth and nose. Your horn is blaring and people are screaming. No, you’re screaming._

  
You wake yourself up with a choked scream, tears spilling from your eyes. You died again. You feel like throwing up, like tearing your own meat from your bones. You’re sitting up with your nails digging heavily into the skin of your arms. You died again. You sob uncontrollably, forgetting about reality and only reliving the nightmare that would torment you at the toss of a coin for the rest of your life. You can’t focus on anything real, not even the android that is now standing next to you and surveying the room for any threat that could have caused you such distress.

You’re crying your eyes out, vision blurred with tears. You’re snapped back to reality when you feel firm grips around your wrists. Your breath is stolen from the unexpected contact as he pries your hands from your arms. You feel the burning sensation from where your nails had been, skin broken. He continues holding your wrists and examining your body for injuries.

He holds you like this, neither of you saying anything. The only sound in the room is your ragged breathing, until you gasp. He pulls you into his firm body and wraps his arms around you. He still hasn’t said a word to you, or you to him. You steady your harsh breathing and feel your anxiety overflowing in your chest from the after effects of the nightmare and this close contact. Now you really feel like you’re going to be sick. You break free of him, most likely catching him off guard from the sudden burst of energy you just displayed. Running out the open door, you make it over to the toilet in time to throw up anything that might have been left in you. You have no idea what time it is, or how long you’ve been asleep. You just know that your face and your throat is burning and the taste in your mouth is disgusting. You slump down to your knees, feeling weak. All of a sudden, your hair is being moved from your face, synthetic skin lightly grazing your skin. 

He’s fully holding what hair he can to keep it out of your face until you’re finished. You feel your face heating up for more reasons than one now. You’re finished, as far as you can tell. You feel as if his eyes are burrowing in the back of your head. You can tell he’s shifting your hair around to one of his hands. The now free one touches the back of your neck and lightly traces your scar with his thumb. You feel a chill run up your spine in response to his touch, you shiver. He keeps you like this, one hand entangled in your hair and the other inspecting the raised and discolored skin. Your battle scar. The proof that it was all real, not just a nightmare.

You aren’t sure what to do in this situation. It feels nice but very awkward, due to being partially bent over a toilet. You decide to speak after these long drawn out minutes of silence. 

“Google.. I want to lie back down now..” You whisper. He pauses his prodding and pulls his hand away, releasing your hair. The absence of his touch didn’t stop the tingling of your skin. He gives you space to stand up. You manage to do so and begin to wash your hands and brush your teeth to get the gross, acidic taste out of your mouth. You notice he’s still standing close to you from his reflection in the mirror.

He opens his mouth to finally speak. “Have I completed my secondary objective?” You lock eyes with him through the mirror. You’re his owner, he’s your property. He has to comfort and assist you. That’s all this will ever be. You bottle away every good feeling you’ve had about him and put it in the deep crevices of your heart. You hope it stays locked away like everything else. 

“Yes.” You hold on to the sink for support and keep your head down, keeping your gaze averted from his. You hear him leave the bathroom and walk towards the living room area. For some unknown reason, your heart sinks. Deep down, you do know the reason but you repress it. You pull yourself together and head back to your room. You hope for a dreamless sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I keep straying away from my guidelines. Help.  
> Sorry for any errors, I only proof read half of it.


End file.
